


Same Old Song and Dance

by Brate



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Brothers, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural Elements, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colonel Sheppard is attacked by something. Good thing the Winchesters have been stationed in the Pegasus Galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Old Song and Dance

John leaned against the wall, panting as he unscrewed the cap on his water bottle. _Thank God Ronon wasn't here._ John couldn't have taken the ridicule today. It was only his third circuit and he was already winded. Normally, he would do five without difficulty. This would've just been embarrassing. He hated being out of shape. But Beckett had decreed and he hadn't been allowed to run for two weeks with bruised ribs. Knowing it wasn't John's fault didn't make it any easier. 

He took another sip of the water, put the lid back on, and attached the bottle to his belt. He stretched, getting prepared to run again—exhaustion be damned—when he shivered. Why was it so cold? John reached up to his ear piece to request a check of the environmentals when he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

Focusing on the stretch of hallway, he saw it again. Some kind of light. He called out, but there was no answer. Hand on his weapon, John cautiously eased down the hall. Living in the Pegasus Galaxy didn't create his paranoia, it'd just firmly cemented it in his psyche.

He saw another flicker of light and narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what it could be. A form started to coalesce before his eyes—it looked humanoid, but without a firm shape to it. Like it was made of light. _Oh, shit, not another one_ , was the last thing to go through his mind before it rushed at him.

And then all he felt was pain.

***

Sam Winchester ran into his quarters, relieved to see his brother sitting on his bed, reading.

"Come on, Dean, we have a job." 

Dean stuck a finger between the pages of his book and pointedly looked at his watch. "We're not on duty for another ten hours. I don't have to do anything besides read about Atticus."

Sam brushed past and started packing. "No, I mean we have a _job_ to do." 

Letting his head slip back to slam against the wall, Dean said, "Please tell me you're kidding."

Sam snorted. "I wish."

Dean threw the book on the bed and rolled off. "Man, I thought we'd left this stuff on Earth."

"Yeah, well," Sam said, tossing a few more things in the bag, "when have we ever been that lucky? Besides, it's not like it's the first one we've dealt with here. Well, I guess it is on Atlantis itself, but—"

Dean interrupted before he could get too off-topic. "We can't keep doing this. We're gonna get caught."

"So, what, you want to just let it go? Forget the family business?" Sam asked incredulously. 

"Of course not," Dean snapped. "We just have to be careful." He sighed. "So what is it this time?"

"Colonel Sheppard was attacked during his morning jog."

"And what makes you think it's our kind of thing?" Dean asked, getting his kit together, too, even as he tried for an air of skepticism.

Sam ducked his head. He had hoped his brother wouldn't ask. "I—I'm pretty sure it is."

Dean stopped his movements and looked over. "Sammy."

Sighing, Sam admitted, "It's just a feeling, Dean."

Dean swallowed, the action loud in the quiet room. "I really hate your feelings," he said finally.

"Join the club," Sam whispered back.

They finished getting ready in silence, then walked to the infirmary.

While Dean went to work his magic on Nurse Tyler, Sam took the opportunity to slink into Atlantis' version of an ER where they were taking care of Sheppard. The colonel was still unconscious, so everyone was too distracted to notice Sam pulling out an EMF meter and taking readings. The instrument was on mute, so there were no accompanying noises when the lights flashed a positive signal. He'd been right. It was definitely their kind of problem. 

Sam put the meter away and walked to the entrance to wait for his brother. Though Dean didn't try to flirt for information too often, it was useful in an emergency. Besides, Sam knew Dean wouldn't mind the coffee date she'd "talked him into."

"Taking one for the team," Dean said with a smirk as he rejoined Sam. 

"Yeah, you're a true humanitarian, Dean."

Now that they knew the location where Sheppard had been found, unconscious and bleeding, it was up to them to take care of it—without anyone noticing.

***

Major Evan Lorne situated himself against a cart, out of the way, as Doctor Beckett and his team worked on Colonel Sheppard. Luckily, he had been found before the blood loss had become critical, but it still looked like too much in Evan's estimation. Carson had reassured him the damage wasn't too deep, more superficial.

There were a couple nicks on Sheppard's face and neck; his hands and arms had a few slashes in them—defensive wounds— but the majority of the damage was on his torso. There weren't as many cuts as Evan would have expected to find. Which meant Sheppard had been caught unaware and taken down fast. But hopefully he saw who- or whatever attacked him. 

Although the colonel had bled a lot, there was no major damage. He hadn't even required surgery; Doctors Beckett and Satori were busily sewing any wounds that required stitches while the nurses were cleaning and applying bandages to the ones that didn't. 

Beckett tied off another round of stitches and appeared to be studying the parallel gashes. "There were no weapons found around him?" he asked. 

"No, there was nothing," Evan answered. _Except blood_. 

"Strange," Beckett mused aloud. "The colonel's abdomen and chest were slashed."

"Do you know of anything that could make those types of wounds?" 

"If I had to guess, it would be claws," Beckett offered. "Or, perhaps, comparable knives. But I've not seen the likes of this before."

Evan unhappily realized the information wasn't narrowing down his list of suspects. "We're getting teams together to start searching for what or who did this. I'd like to be able to give them some idea of what to look for." Evan stepped closer. "The colonel's team is already on the hunt."

Beckett eyed him sideways.

Evan shrugged sheepishly. "I wasn't going to try to stop 'em." He had left Captain Murphy in charge while he found out about Colonel Sheppard. Evan had been torn between going out there and trying to find whatever hurt his commanding officer and getting valuable intel. He'd tamped down his impatience for the greater good and waited for his boss to wake up. 

Sheppard moved his head as if fighting his way back to consciousness.

Noticing the movement, Beckett asked, "Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me? Colonel?"

As though called by the sound of the doctor's voice, Sheppard's eyes slowly opened and he looked around, confused. "Wha' 'appened?"

"That's what we'd like you to tell us, Colonel," Beckett answered easily. "Calm yourself; no one else was hurt and you'll be fine. You're in the infirmary."

Sheppard locked gazes with Evan and barked out a dry, "Report."

"Sir, someone heard you yell, and we found you bleeding and unconscious in section G-B."

Sheppard nodded. But he didn't say anything else.

"Sir?"

That appeared to startle his commander. Sheppard shook his head slowly, then murmured, "There was a light."

"A light, sir?"

Sheppard tried to shrug, grimacing at the movement. "I don't...I don't really remember. But I think there was a shape. Kind of glowy."

Evan had no idea what to do with that. "All right, sir. We have men out now; I'm going to see if anyone's found anything. I'll come back in—" He looked over at Beckett. "—an hour?"

Beckett nodded. "Aye, he should be a little more coherent by then."

"In an hour, sir," Evan confirmed.

Sheppard waved him away. "Go...do." Then his eyes closed and the hand dropped.

As Evan walked away, he could hear them continue to talk quietly, which allowed the knot in Evan's chest to loosen. It was time to figure out what the hell had happened, and make sure it didn't happen again.

***

Sam followed his brother through the corridors at a fast clip, knowing they didn't have much time. They'd either be cut off from the scene of the crime as it were, or more likely, they'd be called in to fill one of the search teams that were forming as they walked.

Fortunately, their radios remained silent and they were able to get near the attack site. Sam was also grateful his brother hadn't drilled him any harder on why he thought this was one of their gigs. Sam knew his brother wasn't thrilled with the fact that Sam's long dormant psychic abilities seemed to be creeping out again since he reached the Pegasus Galaxy and Atlantis; it's not as though Sam was crazy about it, either. They just had to hope there was nothing demonic about it this time. Dean was always more of an "ignore it until it goes away" kind of guy, and Sam was nervous enough to be thankful for that at the moment. Although Dean wasn't so stubborn as to ignore Sam's hunches. He may choose to put blinders on, but Dean always saw what was dead ahead of him.

Two soldiers were stationed at the junction where Sheppard was found, pointedly not looking at the bloody mess on the floor ten feet away. Sam recognized Stackhouse, but the other one was new to him.

"Corporal Stevens," Dean greeted warmly. 

Sam nodded a hello at Stackhouse, receiving one in return.

"What are you doing way out here?" Dean asked, then made a show of "seeing" the blood. "What the hell happened?"

Sam was once again impressed with Dean's acting prowess. If he hadn't been a hunter, he should've gone to Hollywood.

"You haven't heard?" Stevens asked, with the creepy glee one gets when burdened with juicy details. 

"No." Sam and Dean shook their heads.

"Colonel Sheppard was attacked."

"Oh my God, who did it?" 

"No one knows," Stackhouse added. "They didn't find any weapons, and no sign of any intruders."

"Is he okay?" Sam asked. 

Stackhouse nodded solemnly. "Last I heard he's going to be fine, but he looked like hell when they took him away."

"Thank God."

"Well, we were just headed to the north pier." Dean jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. "Would it be okay if we passed through as long as we don't disturb anything?"

Stevens and Stackhouse looked hesitant. 

Sam knew they were about to say no, so he piped up, "It's just if we have to backtrack, it'll take us another half-hour or so, and we'll probably be called soon to join a search party."

After exchanging a look with Stevens, Stackhouse said, "Yeah, okay, just make sure you walk along the edges to avoid any...thing," he finished lamely.

"Trust me," Sam said, "we don't want to mess anything up."

"Thanks, guys," Dean said. They made a great show of carefully circumventing the attack zone. 

Sam walked behind Dean, blocking their view of him as Dean got out the EMF meter. It showed residual activity at the attack site, but it trailed off quickly. They moved around the bend and were hidden from the guards, so Dean stopped the furtive attempts to hide the equipment and brought it out in bigger sweeps. 

"Anything?" Sam asked.

"Not a damn thi— Oh, wait a minute." The lights started blinking wildly at a nearby doorway. Dean activated the crystal to open the door, but nothing happened. He tried again with the same result. With a frustrated sigh, he stepped back and motioned for Sam to take over. "You wanna get your girlfriend to let us in, Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "We're just friends; she wouldn't cheat on Sheppard." He gave a sideways smirk as he placed his hand on the side crystal, sending a mental push. It took a little more _umph_ than usual, but after a few seconds' pause, the door slid open and the Winchesters stepped inside.

***

Rodney McKay trailed behind his teammates, trying not to feel disheartened that they were returning empty-handed. He wasn't sure if there was even anything to find since Ronon—king of the trackers—had come up with bupkis. They were heading back to the attack site in a fruitless attempt to see if Ronon could find another lead. Rodney figured he'd leave them to it and check on Sheppard, then start searching through the internal sensors, see if anything showed up. 

Lost in thought, Rodney hadn't realized his teammates had paused until he practically ran into Teyla. "What is it?" he asked, voice automatically a whisper.

Ronon raised a hand for silence. He slowly walked forward and peered around a doorway. Teyla mirrored the action on the other side of the door. Rodney waited a moment, then followed. 

There were two grunts searching a room—a private apartment that hadn't had a resident in over ten thousand years. Why the hell were they searching a room this close to where Sheppard had been hurt? It was a little too coincidental for Rodney not to be suspicious.

And, of course, once he came to that conclusion, he wasn't going to remain silent. "What the hell are you two doing here?" Rodney demanded.

The men whirled around, surprise evident; still, one of them had the presence of mind to try to hide something behind his back. Rodney actually recognized them—the Winchesters. They'd arrived about six months before on the _Daedalus_. They were unusual, because no other members of the expedition had family stationed in Pegasus. The taller one, Sam, had assisted in Rodney's lab a few times as an Ancient light switch. He struggled to remember the other one's name.

"Oh, well..." not-Sam said.

"We were just...looking around?" Sam offered hesitantly.

"And what are you hiding behind your back?" Rodney continued, ignoring their spluttering. He didn't need to turn around to know Ronon was backing him up, using his immense size to intimidate.

Not-Sam shrugged and brought out the device he'd been trying to conceal.

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "An EMF meter?" He didn't bother hiding his confusion. 

"We're sorry," Sam said. "Dean and I were just looking around—" 

Ronon stepped around Rodney. "Was it a spirit?"

The Winchesters' jaws dropped in tandem. 

Rodney frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"How do..." Sam said, "how do you know that?"

Ronon shrugged. "I thought that's what you do."

"But how do you _know_ that?" Dean asked.

"You took care of a problem on Goran." Teyla sidled to the other side of Rodney and smiled. "The villagers were pleased that you were able to continue their ancestor's journey."

Rodney was having a hard time understanding any of this. And he never liked that feeling. "What the hell are you guys talking about?"

"They're ghostbusters," Ronon said.

Rodney pointed a finger at the Satedan. "I _knew_ it was a mistake to show you that movie. It's fake. I thought we explained that."

Teyla directed her question to the brothers. "So you think a spirit attacked Colonel Sheppard?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. "It's a possibility," Sam admitted.

"No." Rodney shook his head. "No, it's not a possibility; that's insane. There are no such thing as ghosts."

"But alien vampires are totally realistic?" Dean drawled. 

"I have seen those," Rodney countered.

"Yeah, well—" Dean shut up as his brother elbowed his side and shook his head.

"We'd like to help," Teyla offered. "What is it you are looking for?"

Sam gave a slight shrug. "Right now we're working blind. Just looking for anything out of the ordinary."

Unbelievably, Ronon and Teyla started to tear apart the room with the Brothers Crazy. Rodney felt like he had stepped into an alternate reality. Maybe he'd passed by a Quantum Mirror on his way back. Or maybe stepped into an episode of _CSI: Atlantis_. For God's sake, there was no way he was helping with this foolishness. 

The four of them start crawling all over the room like worker ants. Rodney manfully resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them. Instead, he leaned against the wall next to the door and folded his arms over his chest. The fact that he didn't make fun of them was really more than they could ask for at this point. He saw Ronon pause, then tap a point on the wall where he had been looking. 

"What about this?" Ronon pointed.

It took all of Rodney's willpower not to move closer and see what had caught Ronon's eye. But, damn it, he didn't believe in this. He wasn't going to get stuck in their insanity. He wasn't going to help these idiots. His team leader—his friend—had been seriously injured and they were wasting valuable time on this ridiculous notion of ghosts.

The Winchesters and Teyla clustered around Ronon and exchanged a few words. After the short discussion, they turned as one to look at him. 

Rodney knew what was coming, he knew it, and he wasn't going to give in. It was ridiculous. He ignored the imploring looks sent his way and sniffed in disgust.

But when Teyla said, "Rodney, if there's even a chance this is connected to the attack on John...."

Rodney's heart dropped to his stomach. "Badly played, Teyla," he said. 

She had the grace to look discomfited, but didn't back down. It didn't matter. She'd shamed him and he'd have to help even though it was idiotic. Which it was.

Rodney sighed, grabbed his pack of tools, and kneeled down next to the section in question to get a look at what he was dealing with. There was an eight by eight inch square, minutely recessed into the wall, and most likely would've gone unnoticed without the intense scrutiny of Ronon Dex.

"All right then," Rodney said and got to work. It took him longer than it should have to crack it, but it was still faster than anyone else in the galaxy could have. The recess was a panel in the wall; it lifted to show an open space behind. 

"So, what is that, an Ancient safe?" Dean said. 

Rodney ignored him and reached in, snatching the only thing in there, some kind of notebook. He stood and moved to a nearby table so they could all see. He turned the pages carefully. The pages weren't made of paper—no way they would've lasted the ten thousand years he suspected they'd been locked away. It was almost like a type of plastic, or the Pegasus version thereof. The book was filled with Ancient handwritten notes, diagrams, and some downright creepy doodles. 

"I didn't think they wrote much down like that, did they?" Dean asked. "Seems kind of old-fashioned."

"They might if they wanted to keep it out of the main computer—keep it secret," Sam suggested. "Can any of you read Ancient?"

Teyla said, "Dr. Weir has been teaching me, but I am far from fluent."

Rodney sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Once again, it's up to me to save the day. I've been working on a translation program. I'll scan the pages in and get it going. It may not be exact, but it should be close enough." He hesitated, then added, "You might as well come to the lab with me."

***

Dean ended up with Sam and McKay in McKay's lab after they shooed everyone else out. Teyla and Ronon had gone to check on the colonel, and Dean could tell Rodney wanted do the same, but was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery even if he didn't quite believe in it.

While McKay worked at his computer—Sam apparently supervising over his shoulder—Dean wandered around the lab, sporadically getting yelled at and told not to touch anything. Dean wasn't all that worried though. For one, he didn't have the magic gene—the fact that it existed, quite frankly, still had him rolling his eyes months later—and two, he could pretty much tell when things _should not be touched_.

Not long after they'd arrived in the lab, there had been a call on the radio ordering them to report for duty. Before either Sam or he could respond, McKay had gotten on his radio and told Lorne he'd co-opted the Winchesters' help for something important, and couldn't let them wander around aimlessly when Lorne had plenty of grunts already.

Everyone, including Major Lorne, knew how important Sheppard was to McKay, so he clearly guessed that the "something important" had to do with what happened to Sheppard. Even if he didn't, it wasn't as though the major was going to risk McKay's ire for two easily replaced soldiers.

Twenty more circuits of the room and Dean was beyond bored. "Do we have anything yet?" he asked.

"We're just finishing up, if you must know," McKay snapped. Then he and Sam were hunched over the laptop, eagerly devouring the translation of the journal, muttering to themselves and to each other.

When they tried to explain it to Dean, he basically heard, "Ancient scientist... blah blah blah... experimented on himself... blah... changed... blah blah... descent into madness... blahdity blah blah."

"So, what you're saying is we're hunting an Ancient mutant ghost?" Dean summarized.

Sam paused for a moment before replying, "Yeah, I guess, maybe."

"Man, the Pegasus Galaxy just keeps getting better and better." Dean dropped his head and sighed. "Bottom line: how do we take care of it?"

Sam performed one of his magnificent eye-rolls. "This particular Ancient had been doing his experimenting in a secret lab."

"And do we know where this lab is located?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, we do," McKay said. He typed into his computer, overlaying the location of the lab on a map of Atlantis. He snapped his fingers and pointed. "We started clearing that section a few days ago."

Dean locked eyes with Sam. They silently agreed that was probably the reason for the attack. The activity had most likely awoken the spirit.

Clapping his hands together, Dean rubbed them furiously. "Okay," he said. "We have a place to start."

***

John aborted an attempt to turn onto his side when his wounds reminded him why that would be a terrible idea. Instead, he managed to crack his eyes open and saw Teyla sitting in a nearby chair, ostensibly reading a magazine. Unless she'd suddenly developed a sincere wish to learn about sport-fishing, John assumed she was lamenting yet another ridiculous pastime of Earth people. Not that John blamed her.

"Teyla," he said, his voice rough. He gratefully drank the water she offered. "What have you found?"

Teyla shook her head. "Nothing yet," but John could tell she was holding something back.

And since it was his butt in the infirmary bed, he thought he deserved to know what. "You're hiding something," John said in a monotone, and did his best to sit up in the bed without flinching. It didn't work, but he was semi-upright, so he still counted it as a win.

"John, it's nothing you need to worry about…" she started.

He cut her off with a wave. "Teyla, please."

She was vacillating, but another voice broke the stalemate.

"We should tell him."

John swiveled to look at Ronon standing in the curtained doorway.

"He needs to know," Ronon added.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Teyla nod, so he turned back to face her.

Ten minutes later, John wasn't sure if he should've pressed for the full story.

***

Sam finished writing down whatever pertinent information he needed and exchanged a look and a nod with Dean.

Dean's fingers tapped a rhythm out on the lab table. He held out his hand for the "diary."

Blankly, McKay looked at Dean's outstretched palm. "What?"

"We're going to go back to our room, collect a few more things, and then go down and take care of this problem."

"And…?" McKay prompted.

"And we kinda need the book," Sam interjected.

"For what?"

"The only way to get rid of the Ancient is to destroy everything connected to him." Dean made a pointed gesture at the notebook.

Dr. McKay clutched the book to his chest with a scandalized expression. "You can't," he said. "Think of everything we could learn from this."

"Yeah, secret experiments that create mutant ghosts are always valuable learning tools." Dean laughed bitterly. "Listen, Doc, you have everything scanned in, you don't need the original. That could be what's keeping this thing around. It's got to be destroyed."

The logic was unassailable.

Yet Dean was still surprised when McKay thrust the book at him.

With a resigned, "Fine, here," McKay folded his arms over his chest. "So what kind of stuff do we need to get this done?"

***

Sam tried to avoid his brother's judging eyes as they packed a few more pieces of equipment in their room. Dr. McKay stood in the door watching them for a few minutes before excusing himself to respond to someone on the radio. 

Sam simply focused his attention on grabbing anything of importance. He was trying to hurry because he knew Dean was going to take the opportunity while their audience was distracted.

"Why did we have to bring him along with us?" Dean hissed in his ear.

Sam hated being right.

"What did you want to do, Dean, duct tape him to his chair?" Sam snapped. "There was no way we were going to get out of bringing him along. Besides, this way we have someone important to deflect attention if something goes wrong."

Dean stepped back, looking somewhat mollified. Any contentment fled when they stepped out of their room and saw Teyla, Ronon, and a heavily-bandaged, wheelchair-bound Sheppard waiting outside.

Dean took one look and started shaking his head. "No, no, no, no way. We are not taking an injured dude on a hunt," with the same inflection as _bringing a knife to a gun fight_.

Colonel Sheppard glowered. "Might I remind you the 'dude' in question is your CO?"

Before Dean's mouth could get them KP duty or worse, Sam pulled his brother aside. "This isn't going to be a normal salt and burn, Dean. I think having him close might be a good idea."

Dean turned to him, incredulous. "Are you serious about this?"

Sam nodded. "I think it might be the only way. Besides, we don't want him attacked again while we're taking it out. He's safer with us."

"Great. I just hope we don't end up getting shipped back to Earth for this fiasco," he muttered, walking back toward the group.

Sam could only agree, because he was serious when he said he didn't think this was going to be routine. But, he had an idea.

He just hoped it'd work.

***

John did his best to remain upright in the wheelchair as he was pushed to the Ancient lab. He'd balked at having to ride in the chair at first, but Teyla had insisted—thank God. He wouldn't have had the energy to get this far. He was a lot weaker than he'd expected to be.

Now they just needed to avoid Beckett until the situation could be resolved. John had already removed his ear piece, not wanting to listen to the increasingly Scottish-themed threats coming across the line. He only prayed Atlantis would help hide him from the sensors for a little bit longer. 

John didn't know exactly what was going on or what needed to be done, but he wanted to be a part of it. Not only because he'd been attacked, but because the city was at risk. 

The group came to a halt, and John blinked, realizing he may have dozed off. Luckily, he hadn't fallen out of the chair. Looking around, he realized, "We're not there, are we?"

"We're close," Sam Winchester said. "We want to make a few preparations before we get any closer."

"Because it always goes better if we get it right the first time," Dean added. 

John was able to focus enough to notice the brothers staring oddly at him. Sam was holding some kind of...was that a chalice? How the hell did they get that through the screening process?

"We're going to need to do this one a little differently than we normally would," Sam said.

"Why?" Rodney asked. 

"Because it'd be really hard to find a ten thousand-year-old corpse to burn," Dean shot back. 

Sam subtly moved in front of his brother, and explained, "I have an incantation I think might work."

Rodney scoffed beside John, but Sam continued as if there'd been no interruption.

"But it requires blood."

John eyed the cup warily. He knew where this was headed. Unfortunately, so did Rodney.

"Okay, that's it," Rodney snapped. "You two are officially out of your minds. This man just got out of the infirmary...." He paused, looking down at John. "Carson didn't let you out, did he?"

John winced. "Um...not so much, no."

Rodney waved him off. "Whatever. Look, he's lost enough blood in the last twenty-four hours. He doesn't need to be further exsanguinated by you leeches."

Sam shook his head. "It shouldn't take that much. I mean, I can probably put some in, too."

From the look Dean shot his brother, he'd been unaware of this part of the plan. "Sam." His voice had a warning to it.

"Look," Sam said, "we're both natural gene carriers. I figure that's our connection to the Ancient. I just think it would help to use the strongest expression of the gene we have. Make a deeper connection."

Teyla's hands pressed against John's shoulders. "Is this absolutely necessary?" she asked in that calm way she always had, even when the shit was hitting the fan. 

Sam nodded gravely. "I think it's the best chance we have."

John stuck his arm out before anyone else could extend the discussion. It's not like he was all about self-sacrifice, but the needs of the many, etcetera., etcetera. "Do what you got to do. Just make it quick...and small." Otherwise, Beckett would be pissed. Even more than he already was. 

Dean stepped forward with a knife, and Ronon practically growled. "I'll do it."

John rolled his eyes heavenward. "Relax, Chewie, I'm sure he's not going to try anything with all of you standing around." But he sat back as Ronon pulled out a knife from—somewhere—and made a quick slice in John's forearm. Sam slipped the cup underneath and John watched with an odd detachment as his blood started filling the container. 

Before it could get too deep, Dean slapped a bandage over the cut and wrapped it tight. "That should be enough." He frowned as his brother rolled up the sleeve of his BDUs and prepared to cut his own arm as well. But Dean didn't say anything, merely clenched his jaw and prepared another bandage. John recognized a soldier's stoicism—get through what you have to when you have to. Deal with the rest later.

Sam added his own donation to the pot, Dean wrapped his arm, and then they were on their way again. John was wide awake now, either from the anticipation or the adrenaline, it really didn't matter—he was wired. It was only another few minutes until they were in front of the lab.

"Okay, now what?" Rodney asked. His face looked like it would keep the scowl permanently, even if this was successful. 

John decided he would have to take him somewhere after this was done and let him tinker with dangerous and valuable equipment to get him back on an even keel.

No one actually entered the lab. The Winchesters agreed it would be too dangerous. Instead, they set their duffels outside the door and started unloading. 

Dean pulled two non-military shotguns out of his bag— _seriously_ , thought John, _there has to be better security scanning of newcomers_ —and offered one to Rodney. 

"Are you sure about that?" John asked with a wary eye.

"He needs protection. Besides, it's rock salt pellets to deter the spirit. If it hits us, it'll sting, but it won't kill." 

John noticed Sam flinch in the background.

Then Dean handed a clip to Teyla, who immediately loaded it into her sidearm. He glanced at Ronon's gun. "Sorry, man, I don't have ammo to fit that." 

"I'll make do," Ronon replied. 

John wondered if there was a "salt" setting on the gun. Because, quite frankly, that would be _awesome_. 

Teyla and Ronon moved to about five feet on either side of John, alert and prepared. Rodney stayed by John's side, hands clenched tight around the barrel of the shotgun. Warmth flooded John's chest at his team's protectiveness. He knew Rodney had to think it was crazy and it had to be killing him, but he was still going along with it for John's sake.

John forced himself to pay attention to what the Winchesters were doing, because he was getting downright maudlin. Sam dipped his finger in their combined blood and drew a bunch of symbols, framing the door in red. 

Dean caught John's curious glance and explained, "We're hoping to call the Ancient with the blood and bind him with the symbols so we can exorcise him."

"How are you going to get him in the lab?" John asked.

"With this." Dean held up what John assumed was the handwritten journal they'd found.

Without turning around, Sam held his hand out and Dean placed the journal in it. Sam leafed through the book, placing blood-soaked sigils on different pages. Everyone watched in silence until he was finished. With one final nod, he stood, wiped his bloody fingers on his pants and said, "I think that's it."

Dean took back the journal and tossed it into the center of the lab.

"Everyone stay focused," Sam said, opening another book and flipping to the correct page. "The first incantation will call the Ancient; the second will banish it." 

Sam started reading some kind of spell—was that Latin?—while Dean stood guard next to him, shotgun ready. The foreign words rolled easily off Sam's tongue and, despite himself, John was impressed. He took a second to wonder if it was going to be easy.

He should've known better.

A burning, low in his gut, started as an ache and steadily climbed into pain. It grew exponentially until it was a raging fire that exploded over the rest of his body. 

John's brain short-circuited, and he could feel himself hunch forward, his fall arrested by Rodney's sturdy frame. 

From nearby, he heard Dean yell, "Sammy!" 

John was gently lowered to the ground while Rodney and Teyla called his name. John wasn't able to answer. At least, he hoped he wasn't because he was sure screaming would be the only sound he could make at the moment. 

John curled into himself, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of brain-crushing agony. He swore there was laughter echoing through his head. His eyes drifted over and he saw Dean standing over his downed brother. Great, John wasn't the only one in trouble. That was the last coherent thought he had for a while.

***

Dean heard a pained grunt and turned just in time to see his brother grab his head and go down like a ton of bricks; there was no reaction to his call. Dean knew Sam had only gotten through about half the banishment ritual, which meant there was no time to check on Sam. The only way to help him would be to finish this. He dropped his shotgun and picked up their father's journal, still open to the pertinent page, and started to recite where Sam had left off—maybe not as smoothly as Sam, but his voice grew stronger with each line, until he was practically shouting.

Ronon had stepped forward, taking Dean's shotgun, covering the brothers as Dean finished the spell.

Just as the last words rang out, a blinding light erupted from the lab and the door slammed shut instantaneously. Dean jumped back, startled. He was gratified to see Ronon wasn't unaffected, either. There was a loud roar from inside and then silence. 

They stood still, waiting. Nothing happened.

Then Sam rolled onto his back with a groan, snapping Dean into motion. He dropped to his knees beside Sam, cautiously checked his brother over, hands hovering, needing to help. He gently tapped the side of Sam's face. "Sam? Sammy?"

Sam didn't open his eyes, but he did groan again before croaking, "That sucked."

"You got that right," Sheppard agreed from behind them. 

Dean helped Sam sit up and regain his feet, standing close enough to touch, in case Sam wasn't as steady as he seemed. 

Ronon moved to lift Sheppard into the chair while Teyla calmly directed him and McKay fluttered nearby. 

"So, one of you mind explaining what the hell that was?" Sheppard asked once he was settled.

"Oh, well...." Dean wasn't quite sure what to say, so he graciously passed the buck to his brother. "Sam?"

Sam scuffed his foot on the floor and ducked his head. Dean had to fight a flashback of ten-year-old Sammy coming home from school in messy clothes, sporting a black eye, and telling some lame-ass story that he knew Dean wouldn't believe.

"I, uh, think I made the connection a little stronger than it needed to be," Sam said. "It was able to link with us, and affect us."

" _Affect_ ," McKay snarled. "That's a pretty mild word for such a painful reaction."

Dean clenched his hands into fists. He wouldn't have gone along with this if he'd known there was a chance the connection could be used against them. 

Sheppard barked, "Rodney, knock it off. It's not like Sam wasn't hit with the same two-by-four I was."

Sam nodded his thanks and Dean let himself be pulled back by his brother's hand on his sleeve. 

"Besides, it's done. Right?" Sheppard continued. "Mission accomplished?" 

Reaching into his duffel, Dean pulled out the EMF meter and did a thorough sweep. It stayed quiet. He turned it off with a sigh. "Looks clear," he reported.

Everyone looked as relieved as Dean felt.

"So," Rodney said, "do we want to look inside and see what happened?"

"I doubt you'll be able to get in," Sheppard drawled. 

Rodney looked at him suspiciously. "Why not?"

"I sure as hell didn't shut the door when it all went kablooey. You?" Sheppard asked Dean.

Dean shook his head. "Shocked the hell outta me. Sir," he added after a beat.

"I think Atlantis took care of it." Sheppard smiled placidly. "Probably sealed it for good."

McKay snorted his derision, and Dean knew the scientist would be back trying to hack into the room soon enough. Whatever. He and Sam did their best. If McKay wanted to poke the bear, he could deal with the teeth and claws.

Teyla maneuvered the chair around and started pushing Sheppard down the hallway. "You are going back to the infirmary before Dr. Beckett comes after us with a hunting party," she said. 

"I'm fine," Sheppard countered. "I'll just go sleep it off in my room."

"Yeah, sure you will," McKay said. "I trust your judgment even less than I do that sheep-herder's." Their voices trailed off as they got farther away. 

Ronon stayed, lifted a questioning brow, but Dean waved him off. "It's okay, big guy, we'll clean everything up."

The Satedan nodded before following the rest of his team. 

Dean looked at the bloody door, then eyed his brother. "You need to see the doc?"

"Nah," Sam shook his head, gathering up their father's journal and the chalice. "Most of the pain went away as soon as you finished. Now I'm just achy. Nothing a shower and some Ibuprofen can't fix."

Dean continued to watch his brother, but he seemed to be telling the truth. He'd keep an eye on him for the next few hours, just in case. "Think it's safe to remove the symbols?" 

"You said it's gone," Sam said. "I don't see why not."

Dean nodded. He hated to acknowledge his brother's...powers, or whatever, but, "Maybe I'd like a second opinion." He ignored Sam's surprised glance and added, "Just to be safe."

Sam closed his eyes, reached out a hand, and moved it along the closed door. After a moment, he stepped back with a grin. "This house is clean."

Dean didn't regret the noogie he gave Sam one damn bit.

***

Evan Lorne walked into the mess, automatically registering the occupants: Martin and Duvall had apparently gotten over whatever tiff they'd been in, a group of scientists were loudly debating the merits of returning to M7R-372—Evan would have to vote no, in that case—and Sheppard's team was sitting at the table nearest the window. Evan was pleased to see the colonel was all healed up after his extended stay in the infirmary.

Evan was heading to the food line when he noticed a pair at a corner table. He proceeded through the line, ordered his meal, and then took his loaded tray over to them. 

The Winchesters must have noticed his approach—they were too well-trained not to—but they feigned surprise when he stopped beside their table and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not, sir," Sam said, gesturing to the multiple empty chairs. "Help yourself."

After a few minutes of silent eating, Evan offered, "Been meaning to tell you two, good job."

"With what?" Dean asked. 

If Evan waited to respond until they both had a mouthful of eggs, that was neither here nor there. "Getting rid of the ghost." He was satisfied by the odd choking noises that greeted his statement. 

They looked at each other, then at him.

"Sir?" Dean asked.

"You did take care of the ghost, right?" Evan asked, drawing the words out, internally laughing at the matching shocked expression on their faces. 

He wasn't sure whether he should be insulted that people assumed he didn't have a clue what was going on in his city. Evan might not flaunt it, but he wasn't an idiot.

When he'd gone back to talk with Sheppard and found him missing, Evan remembered McKay had taken charge of the Winchesters. He'd figured it was above his pay grade and he'd let them handle it...he would just be prepared in case they needed backup. Which, thankfully, they hadn't. He'd just had to rewrite some reports to make sure the damage to the Ancient lab was "assumed to have occurred before the city sank beneath the waves."

"Y-yeah, it's taken care of," Sam said softly.

Evan nodded serenely. "Then...good job." He stood, picked up his tray, and placed it in the bin before leaving the mess.

***

Dean watched Major Lorne walk out of the mess before turning to Sam. "Didn't we come here to get away from this shit?"

Sam shrugged. 

"What, you really got nothing to say on the matter? Seriously?"

"You told me if I ever mentioned the word 'destiny' again, you'd punch me."

Dean punched him anyway...but only in the arm.


End file.
